CHEN KAIGE: The Hollywood Interview

[Chen Kaige directing the tied-up Cecilia Cheung on the set of THE PROMISE]

Chen Kaige Makes The Promise
by Terry Keefe

For fans of epic martial arts films fantasy films, we're in a renaissance period of sorts on the Asian front, with larger budgets than ever before and some interesting directors such as Zhang Yimou trying their hands at martial arts stories. The advances in CGI have made possible a level of spectacle that filmmakers from previous generations could have only dreamt of, with wire work now only one of a virtual toychest of effects tools available. Looming on the martial arts horizon for some time has been the long-awaited American release of The Promise, which is Chen Kaige's first stab at the genre, as well as being the most expensive Chinese film produced to date. Like Zhang with Hero, The Promise marks a significant cinematic departure from the previous work which made Chen an international star director.

It was 1984 when Chen first came to prominence with his feature Yellow Earth, which was about a Communist soldier sent to the countryside to collect traditional folk songs. Chen soon found himself the subject of much discussion in the film communities at home and abroad as a director at the forefront of a group of recent graduates of the Beijing Film Academy who became known as "the Fifth Generation." Marked by a desire to move away from propaganda and social-realism cinema, the Fifth Generation were the first in China to have been greatly influenced by Western movies and their films received worldwide acclaim as the beginning of a new age in Chinese filmmaking. Chen's true international breakthrough though, critically and commercially, came with Farewell, My Concubine, which was honored with the Palme D'Or at Cannes in 1993, the first time a Chinese film had won that prestigious award. In the years that followed, Chen directed Temptress Moon [1996], The Emperor and the Assassin [1999], and Together [2002]. He also helmed his first English-language feature in 2002 with Killing Me Softly, which starred Joseph Fiennes and Heather Graham.

The story of The Promise follows a beautiful Princess (Cecilia Cheung), who wins the hearts of three very different men: a General (Hiroyuki Sanada), a Slave (Jang Dong-Gun - see our interview with him here), and a Duke (Nicholas Tse). The fates of all four are intertwined, and sealed, due to a deal that the Princess struck with the Goddess Manshen (Chen Hong) as a young girl: she would receive great riches and beauty, but forever lose any man whom she fell in love with. Well, there was a way out of this bargain with the Goddess, but it seemed impossible, as the Goddess proclaimed, "Once you have accepted your destiny, nothing can alter it unless time flows backwards, snow falls in the spring, and the dead come back to life." The Princess seems content with this set of cards, until she falls in love, and meets the one man who might be able to meet all of the Goddess' terms for a dealbreaker: the Slave named Kunlun who can run so fast that he can travel back in time.

As it was for many of his generation in China, the Cultural Revolution of 1966 was a world-shattering event for Chen. Prior to the Revolution, he attended a good school in Beijing and lived a privileged life as the son of the famous film director Chen Huaikai. But he quickly found himself sent into the countryside for "re-education," where he was assigned to clear trees for a living. At the age of 15, he was inducted into the Red Guard and forced to publicly denounce his own father. A rescue of sorts came in 1978, when he became one of the first students to attend the newly reopened Beijing Film Academy.

In person, Chen Kaige is quite tall, and every bit a formidable presence, which is softened by an easy laugh and sense of humor.

Had you wished to work in the martial arts fantasy genre for a long time prior to the making of The Promise?

Chen Kaige: Not really. Because, you know, I wasn't a big fan of martial arts stories when I was young, because all the martial arts books had been banned at that time. So I didn't always have the idea that I wanted to do a martial arts film. But now, if the chance comes, I wouldn't mind doing another one in the future [laughs].

So what was it that sparked your interest in The Promise?

It was a couple of years ago. After I had done a film like Together, which was a small, contemporary piece, I was thinking that there was just more I could do. I wanted to try new styles. I knew that there was a risk, always, when you try to do something very new. But I was inspired by some of the interesting myths that existed in Chinese cultural history. I knew I would be able to use those materials to develop the characters.

Which myths did you pull from?

There is the one interesting story about a man who can run very fast, like the wind. And he has a big ambition, that one day, he can catch the sun. But obviously, his story ends up badly, with death, because he runs too close to the sun. It was an interesting and naive story, almost like a fairy tale. But I think it contained the original energy of what I envisioned. That story which I just mentioned was written some 3,000 years ago.

Let's talk about the process from when you started developing the script to when you wrapped production.

It was very difficult. If you look at a lot of the films which have come out internationally from China, most of them are dramas. So, when I was presenting the idea that I wanted to do a sort of magical fantasy combined with a love story, with martial arts, it was really a big challenge. I spent nearly a year, working closely with my co-writer, to make sure that the story would work on the big screen. Then I think we took slightly longer than 6 months for the shooting. In order to find the best locations, we were very ambitious, and sometimes we'd travel from one far place to the other. Literally, from the north to the south, back to the north again. So there was a lot of time spent just on the way to the locations. Visually, you can see that the film is beautiful and I wanted to find good locations. Otherwise, I was going to have to use visual effects.

Was CGI used to create any of the locations?

Yes, because some of the locations we were trying to find only existed in my mind or dreams [laughs]. Like in the beginning of the film, where we see the Young Girl speaking to the Goddess, that location I couldn't find, so I shot all of that in front of the green screen.

This is the most CGI which you've worked with. The Emperor and the Assassin had a big scope, but not nearly as many computer-generated effects.

The Assassin probably only had 5 or 6 shots which were involved with visual effects, but this time we have almost 1,000.

How did that change your directing mindset?

Well, I don't know, but I did continue to criticize myself for having too many shots like that. We should have had a more limited number of effects shots. It was kind of tough for me to have too many.

The stampede scene with the Slave running in front of the buffalo was one of the most memorable, and visually complicated, of the film. How was it created?

We had a lot of the Tibetan Buffalo, which we took down to the lower lands. They're used to living in very high altitudes, so they become safe when they're in lower altitudes. We did three or four shots with them, and then we sent them back, because we didn't want them to lose their lives. Then we had to animate almost everything with the computer. I also worked with 1,000 soldiers as extras on that scene, so combined with all the moves it was quite a difficult scene to shoot.

Was it only in the editing room, when everything was put together, that you had any idea if it worked at all?

Right. On the set, I had no idea. I just thought, "Oh my god, this is difficult." I was very nervous and anxious about how it would look visually at the end of the day, but I had no clue at all until we were totally done.

What other scenes stood out as your greatest challenges on the film?

The fight between the Snow Wolf (Liu Ye) and the Duke of the North was very difficult. Doing those shots with wires. Although, in the film, the shots last less than 10 seconds, they easily took 14-15 hours to do. And that's tough.

Had you worked with wires before?

No, this was my first time. It was really a big change. I have to say that if I do a martial arts film in the future, I don't know what I will do [in terms of wires]. It's a challenge.

You had movie star leads from Korea (Jang Don-Gun) and Japan (Hiroyuki Sanada), as well as China. Were the language and cultural barriers a significant challenge on the film?

It wasn't that difficult. It's always been my dream to work with the best talents from different countries in Asia. I don't mean that politically, but if you look at the history of these three countries, it's very complicated. I think at least that if we show we can work together as artists, when the politicians are fighting against each other, we'll show what we can do. We'll show our dream of a peaceful future for Asia. There were cultural differences, sure, when we were working. It was like the UN, with interpreters all around. But I think they all understood their characters very well, so the languages weren't a huge problem for me.

This is the most expensive film made in China to date. Did you feel the need to justify that expense on the screen or did you just try to block it out of your mind?

Of course there is pressure. But I was okay, and I tried very hard to just concentrate on shooting the film and not to pay too much attention to the market. Obviously, though, the pressure was there and I had to deal with it on a day-to-day business. But I think if you look at the film, you can understand why so much money was spent. Still, compared to American studio films, The Promise would be a lower-budgeted film. Around 30 million dollars. But by Chinese standards, that's considered very high.

My guess is that it would have cost 120 million or so here to shoot the equivalent of The Promise. This is the trimmed version being released here in the United States, which has lost almost 20 minutes. Do you think this version is stronger?

Well, I think I'm sort of losing my judgment, but I was told many times I should make a version simpler for North American audiences. I think that makes sense because there is always a culture difference between east and west. And if we can do something to help an audience understand the story better, why not?

There is a big theme in the film that life is partially predetermined by fate but through a lot of effort, fate can sometimes be changed. Is that a personal philosophy?

You can say that it's a personal philosophy, but you can also say that it's a part of Chinese culture. We're used to believing that there is a destiny above us that controls everything we do. I think that it's sort of believable, because even here in the west, you can't always get everything you want, although you may make a great effort towards that. And you don't know why. It's not logical. Basically, you should have your harvest if you work really hard in the field, but sometimes there are other things out of your control. This is sort of what's called destiny. But I think to believe in destiny means that you should encourage yourself more to continue to do the things you believe. And by continuing to do what you believe, you can challenge your destiny. Just like what we see in this film. The destiny for the Princess seems unchangeable, but through love and freedom, I think the two men help her to change her destiny.

Had you wanted to be a filmmaker prior to the Cultural Revolution, when you were forced to move to the countryside, or did that desire come much later?

I didn't want to be a filmmaker at all, at first, although my father was a famous filmmaker. I think the reason was that I didn't have any kind of concentration when I was a kid. I found it too boring to do a film, spending so much time on the set and all. And also, I was only a first-year student in middle school when the Cultural Revolution broke out. So I had no idea what was going on. So that's what happened. I think I confirmed that I wanted to be a film director only after I became a film student. Even before I went to the film school, I just said that I needed to be educated and I needed to find a way for myself to do something in the future. But it was after I saw so many classical movies from the west and from Japan and Russia, and some good films from China, that I decided I wanted to be a director.

What do you think of the term "Fifth Generation?" Does it mean something to you or is it just a label?

It means something. I think that the directors from my generation all shared the same backgrounds and experiences during the Cultural Revolution. Then eventually, we became a small group of people who wanted to try to do something completely different from the past. We wanted to touch on the very sensitive subject matter of the society and to also develop a style of the cinema language. So that's why this group of people were so different, and special, from other generations.

You've spoken about one day perhaps wanting to do a film about the Cultural Revolution.

I want to do that, not because I try to be political or anything, but because there are so many strong and beautiful stories about human nature from that period that need to be told. But we want to wait until the time comes when we can just do it, and I don't know how long that will be.

Read More

ZHANG YIMOU: The Hollywood Interview

(Zhang Yimou, above.)

[Another retro interview flashback. My talk with Zhang Yimou occurred in the spring of 2002 and originally appeared in Venice Magazine. Zhang Yimou was promoting his film Happy Times, and had already completed Hero, the martial arts spectacular which was to take his career into an entirely different direction, genre-wise. After Raise the Red Lantern, Happy Times is actually my favorite film of Zhang Yimou, although it is a bit of an anomaly in his canon of work. Much of it is structured like a screwball comedy, including the concept, although unquestionably present in the film is the feeling of melancholy that permeates all of his work. I enjoyed the dichotomy of the comedy and sadness, whereas it is the sadness that dominates many of his earlier films.

This was also the first and only interview where the subject also had his own audio tape rolling. Zhang Yimou had trouble in the past with the Chinese censors and perhaps this was something he did regularly to make sure he was not misquoted. I only speculate.

In person, he was pleasant, although very much felt like a tough general who had been through the wars. A few laughs here and there, but very strong and firm.)

by Terry Keefe

Zhang Yimou is arguably the most acclaimed Chinese filmmaker alive today. For the past decade and a half, his films have been at the vanguard of revolutionizing Chinese cinema. He has proven himself a master of a number of film genres and styles, from period dramas such as Raise the Red Lantern (1991) to his new release Happy Times, a bittersweet comedy. Incredibly prolific, he has made 13 feature films within the last 15 years, earning him prestigious honors such as the Grand Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival (in 1994 for To Live) and the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival (in 1992 for The Story of Qiu Ju). He has discovered amazing actresses such as Gong Li (who starred in Zhang’s directorial debut Red Sorghum in 1988) and Zhang Ziyi (who made her debut in his The Road Home in 1999).

But all of this almost never happened.

When the Cultural Revolution gripped China in 1966, Zhang's family background made him “politically questionable.” His father was a former member of the Kuomintang (Nationalist) army and his mother was a doctor. Like many of his generation with similar family histories, Zhang was forced from secondary school and sent to work in the countryside. Between the years 1968-1971 he worked on farms in the Shanxi Province and then from 1971-1978 he was a laborer in a spinning mill.

From the start of the Cultural Revolution, the Beijing Film Academy, pretty much the only avenue to a real filmmaking career in China, had remained closed. But in 1978, it reopened its doors and held a nation-wide examination for those wishing to be admitted. Zhang Yimou was on the list of those wishing. He passed the exam with honors, but he was nonetheless rejected because at age 27 he was deemed five years too old to enroll in the Academy. Zhang appealed the decision to no avail. Finally, he wrote a letter to the Minister of Culture, urging that the only reason he was applying to the Academy at 27 was that he had already lost ten years of his life to the Cultural Revolution. Shortly thereafter, the Academy accepted Zhang, placing him in its Cinematography Department.

Upon graduation, Zhang was assigned to work as a cinematographer at regional film studios, first the Guangxi Film Studio and then the Xian Film Studio in 1985, quickly establishing himself as a master cinematographer on films such as One and the Eight (1982), directed by Zhang Junchao, and then Yellow Earth (1983) and The Big Parade (1985), both of which were directed by Chen Kaige (see our interview with Chen Kaige). It was Yellow Earth which would effectively jumpstart the legend of Zhang’s generation of filmmakers in both China and the rest of the world. The film received praise in the international film community, particularly for Zhang’s innovative camerawork. Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige, Zhang Junchao, and others would be dubbed the “Fifth Generation” of Chinese Filmmakers by the critics, all of them sharing the background of being the first group of filmmakers to have begun making films after the Cultural Revolution. Their films would share in common a great willingness to experiment with camera style and film stocks, and they would tell stories which were unafraid to examine the darker areas of Chinese history, both modern and ancient. And leading the way for this so-called Fifth Generation would be Zhang, who would make his directorial debut in 1988 with Red Sorghum, which would go on to win the Golden Bear at the 1989 Berlin Film Festival.

Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991) would follow, with both receiving Academy Award nominations for Best Foreign Language Film, although Raise the Red Lantern was not actually seen in China for a few years because the government censors banned it. Then came The Story of Qiu Ju in 1992 and To Live in 1994. All of these films featured the actor Gong Li in a lead role. A story which follows a poor Chinese family’s struggles in the years following the Communist takeover, To Live would be regarded by many as Zhang’s masterpiece but it would also cause him the most trouble at home, once again being banned by the Chinese authorities. To Live was showered with awards at the 1994 Cannes Film Festival but the Chinese government refused to give Zhang permission to attend in person. Despite having to keep an eye on the demands of the censors, Zhang continued to produce amazing work such as the gangster drama Shanghai Triad (1995), the modern comedy Keep Cool (1997), Not One Less (1999), The Road Home (1999), and now Happy Times.

In Happy Times, Zhao Benshan plays Zhao, a poor, middle-aged single man who is desperate to fall in love and winds up meeting a woman (Dong Lihua) through a dating service. Zhao mistakenly gives her the impression that he is a very wealthy hotel manager, and she agrees to marry him if he promises her an expensive wedding. He does so and is now in a jam. Desperate to get the money for the wedding by any means necessary, Zhao enlists the help of his friends to renovate an abandoned bus in a park. Their plan is to charge young lovers by the hour to use the bus, which they dub “the Happy Times Hotel.” But the whole scheme falls through because Zhao is too conservative to let any of the young lovers go inside the bus unless they leave the door open. To make matters worse, Zhao’s bride-to-be insists that he find a job at his “hotel” for her 19-year old stepdaughter Wu Ying (played by Dong Jie in an amazing debut). The sad and lonely Wu Ying is blind and was abandoned by her father, who has promised one day to return with the money for an eye operation. Not wanting to be exposed as a fraud, Zhao offers Wu Ying a job as a masseuse at his “hotel,” and now he has to put together an elaborate ruse, with the help of his friends, to convince the blind girl she is working at a real hotel, when in actuality it is only the rear of a factory. Eventually, a parental-like bond develops between Zhao and Wu Ying, even as his relationship with her stepmother dissolves. The performance by Dong Jie in her debut is a revelation. She is at times heartbreaking to watch as she struggles to figure out what is really going on, as everyone around her struggles to deceive her in a variety of ways. And her portrayal of the girl’s blind mannerisms is perfect.

There are very few directors who can make the shift from a gangster drama to a period family epic to a comedy to a kung-fu movie, but a trademark of Zhang’s body of work is that he is able to jump from genre-to-genre and style-to-style without ever seeming to miss a step. As in Happy Times, his films are often filled with humor and lightness, but are also punctuated by sadness. He never goes for the easy Hollywood happy ending either. If the story really earns it, a Zhang film might end happily. But it could just as easily end on a real down note. Once again, much like life itself. The concubine played by Gong Li in Raise the Red Lantern loses her mind in the end; the family in To Live watch their only daughter die; and Qiu Ju in The Story of Qiu Ju gets her wish of seeing the town chief punished for assaulting her husband but it proves very bittersweet. On the other side of the spectrum, The Road Home is a fairly sentimental and joyful film. And Happy Times is perhaps Zhang’s most purely comical and entertaining film to date. Not that it presents a bunch of easy answers to life’s problems any more than Raise the Red Lantern does. That’s just not the way of Zhang Yimou. If there’s a common theme running through all his films, it might be that there are no easy answers in life.

I had an opportunity to speak with Zhang Yimou when he was in Los Angeles recently. The interview was done through an interpreter.

Happy Times was based on the novella “Shifu, You‘ll Do Anything for a Laugh“ by Mo Yan. How much had to be added to the plot to expand it to a feature-length story?

Zhang Yimou: A lot. The novella didn’t have the blind girl. So after adding this element, the whole story was different. We only kept about 20 percent of the original story.

The film marks the debut of Dong Jie, yet another terrific actress who you’ve discovered. How did you find her?

From 40,000 girls (who were looked at) nationwide. From ages 18-30. The selection of this actress took five months. When I first met Dong Jie, I omitted her. Then after three months, I went back (to her) and said, “Maybe I can work with this girl.” The role of the blind girl in my mind was very skinny, so I wanted her to be thinner. Then Dong Jie lost the weight, maybe 10-15 pounds.

During the audition process, did you ask the actresses to play “blind” to see how well they could do it?

Yes, I asked them to perform in three styles (during the auditions) - happy, sad, and then as a blind person.

Once you cast Dong Jie, how much work did you do with her to develop the “blind” acting technique she used so well in the film?

We first sent her to live with a family, where there was a blind girl who was 19 years old, the same age as her. The background of that blind girl is very similar to that of the character in the film. She lives in a suburb of Beijing. Dong Jie stayed with her for about two weeks. On the set of the film, we’d bring the actual blind girl to the film and let she and Dong Jie stay together. During the whole shoot, these two girls were together. We’d have the blind girl do (the scene) first and then Dong Jie do it second. I think Dong Jie memorized exactly what it was like (to be blind). So after the film was shot and finished, Dong Jie kept staring (like a blind girl). We had to clap our hands and tell her that the film was finished [laughs].

How was the film received in China?

It was first shown in 2000. The audiences liked it very much. Also, the actor (Zhao Benshan) is the most famous comedian in China and people like him very much, especially in the north of China.

You work in many different genres and styles, choosing new ones with every film it seems. Is that something you do deliberately, to keep challenging yourself as a filmmaker?

Yes, I want to work in different genres and different styles. When I am choosing the scripts, if I think I have already done this genre I will give up (on it).

When you’re taking on a new genre, what is your preparation process to get yourself in the right frame of mind for the project? Do you watch tons of your favorite films from that genre, for instance?

Not necessarily. Like my new film, Hero, is a kung-fu movie. When I was shooting that, I never saw any kung-fu movies. I just wanted it to come from my own ideas.

What can you tell us about the story of Hero?

It’s totally different from the other kung-fu movies from Hong Kong. The story is my own. I don’t think I will tell you too much yet [laughs]. There are lots of kung-fu novels I have read, but they’re all very similar. So I gave up (on adapting a book) and I’m just making my own (story). I hope my choices will be unique. Happy Times is very natural, quite realistic, and simple. But Hero is very spectacular. The film will be finished in August of this year. I think it’s a good movie and that you’ll enjoy it. [laughs].

How much of a challenge was it to direct the kung-fu choreography for the first time on Hero?

My biggest problem (with the choreography) was adjusting my imagination to the fact that people only have two hands and can’t do that, that, and that (mimics someone kicking and chopping rapidly in a bunch of different directions). I have hired the most famous kung-fu designer from Hong Kong, but still, when they begin to fight it’s quite different from my imagination. The biggest difficulty was to adjust my imagination to realistic action. I’ve loved kung-fu novels from childhood.

All of your films have very strong female characters. Is that something you consciously look for when choosing your new material or has it just turned out this way?

This is something I do consciously. For example, Happy Times originally didn’t have a female character (in the short story) but I added one.

Have any of your films that were banned in China, such as To Live and Raise the Red Lantern, ever been seen there?

To Live is still banned.

And Raise the Red Lantern?

It had been banned for 2 or 3 years but now it’s available.

Are fewer films banned these days in China?

It’s hard to say because there’s no direction at the censorship.... it still comes to the authorities, their angles. You know, the censorship in China is very general. It’s not that detailed in the laws. For example, they will say “It has a bad effect on society.” But I don’t understand what kind of bad effect. So it totally depends on the authorities from censorship.

The first time you applied to the Beijing Film Academy, you weren’t accepted. Did you think you might never become a filmmaker at that point or were you going to find a way to do it no matter what?

I knew nothing about film at the beginning. (When I didn’t get into the Beijing Film Academy ) I thought about physical education, even the agricultural college was in my mind. I was like the common audience, I knew nothing about film. (Then) I was incidentally admitted to the film school, I was the oldest one. The average age for admittance was 18-22. I was 28 when I was in the cinematography department. The other classmates were around 18. I was ten years older and quite embarrassed. But the classroom next to us was for directors, and the age in there was 18-26. So I thought maybe that would fit for me. The people there were old (laughs), about the same age as me. When I was a sophomore, I changed to be a director. I felt more comfortable with that. I wasn’t sure I had a special interest in directing, I just thought the age should be the same [laughs]. I asked the students in the directing class for a list of books on directing and they gave me a list of about 40 or 50 books. I borrowed all of those books and read all of them, along with some scripts. So gradually I changed to a director.

Zhang Ziyi has become very famous in the United States from her role in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). But you discovered her while directing your film The Road Home. How did that come about?

When we were shooting The Road Home, we were looking for a new face around 18 or 19 years old. A typical Chinese girl’s face. Zhang Ziyi was a sophomore at university with no experience in acting. We had auditioned her twice, and when she was photographed, I thought she looked good. Much in the same way we trained Dong Jie for Happy Times, we sent Zhang Ziyi to live with a farmer’s family. They let her stay there for one month. They let her learn cooking and stay with the housewives. After we finished that film, all the Chinese audiences began to know Zhang Ziyi. When Ang Lee was shooting Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, he went to China and wanted an actress from 18-20 years of age. And Ang called me and I told him, “The people you are all looking at now have already been examined by me.” So I suggested that he see Zhang Ziyi.

A lot of film writers in China refer to your generation of Chinese filmmakers as “The Fifth Generation”. Do you think of that as just a label or does your generation of filmmakers really have a lot in common other than your age?

I think it’s only a label. From the beginning we may have had some similarities, but now we are different. The critics just make that up and label them. The Sixth Generation. The Seventh Generation. It’s only a title.

Read More

Talking with Korean Movie Star Jan Dong-gun

Note: This article orginally appeared in the April 2005 issue of Venice Magazine. It was an odd interview experience, although not unpleasant. Jang Dong-gun was quite nice, but I interviewed him in his hotel suite surrounded by approximately 8 of his entourage and handlers. None of them spoke other than he. None were introduced to me. They were just in the room when I got there. Some of them sat behind me. Some of them around him. Men and women. They all listened to every word he said. And then it was over and I quickly left.
Acting Typhoon Jang Dong-gun
by Terry Keefe

It's been the Spring of Jang Dong-gun these past few months in the United States, in which the South Korean movie star has seen two of his most spectacular cinematic works released here in rapid succession. A leading man for years now in his home country, the actor is finally in the middle of an arrival of sorts on these shores. The month of May saw the long-awaited opening of The Promise, in which Jang Dong-gun starred as the slave Kunlun in director Chen Kaige's martial arts epic, and this month brings the ominous approach of Typhoon, a big-budget action thriller which has the distinction of being the most expensive Korean film ever produced.

Directed by leading Korean director Kwak Kyung-taek, who Jang Dong-gun worked with previously in 2001 on Friend, Typhoon revolves around a grand terrorist scheme by Jang Dong-gun's Sin, a North Korean who, along with his family, was refused entry as a child into South Korea. Subsequently, his family were executed by the North Koreans, while Sin escaped into the country with his sister Choi Myung-ju (Lee Mi-yeon), who he was nonetheless quickly separated from. Filled with unquenchable rage, the now-adult Sin wishes to inflict utter destruction upon both Koreas by combining the devastating power of an approaching typhoon with that of biological warfare. The only one who stands between Sin and the loss of the North and South is Kang Se-jong (Lee Jung-jae), an elite naval lieutenant. If this sounds like the plot of the latest Jerry Bruckheimer spectacular, it could be, and it also looks the part, climaxing in a spectacular battle on board a freighter out in the middle of the storm. Typhoon is a big-budget Korean action spectacular that rivals the production values of similar Hollywood product, although its scale was a serious financial roll of the dice for the filmmakers. Explains Jang Dong-gun, " In general, the action movies in Korea cost a little more than the melodramas or romantic comedies. But this film, I can honestly say, cost 5 times that of a melodrama." However, the film with a huge budget also became a massive hit, raising the next question of whether the rest of the Korean film industry is going to have to start spending a lot more to compete with the likes of Typhoon. It's a concern shared by Jang Dong-gun, who says, "I personally support making this type of big-budget film, just as long as the smaller indie films also will have a chance to be seen. I really believe personally in maintaining our diversity in filmmaking. At the same time, Korea is the only Asian country which can produce this kind of big-budget film with domestic funding."

The role of Sin was a linguistically challenging one for Jang Dong-gun, as he had to also learn Russian and Thai for the role, as well as speak with a North Korean dialect. Comparably difficult was his work on the Chinese production of The Promise, where he had to do his entire performance in Mandarin. Says Jang Dong-gun of his experience on The Promise, in which he starred opposite both Chinese and Japanese actors, "It was my first time working in an arrangement with multinational casting. So I was very afraid before it started, but once the shooting began, I realized that most filmmaking environments are really quite similar, regardless of your nationality or cultural differences. And I found that things were more similar than they were different. I also realized that sharing feelings and emotions is more important than language itself when you act with a multinational cast. Plus, we were there to achieve the same goals and that made us become one."

Read More